Nineteen Years
by Neofelis Nebulosa
Summary: AU- With the war lost and the world open to destruction, Hermione Granger and Bill Weasley are sent into the past to change things and ensure a better future. But nineteen years is a long time and not everything was as it seemed.... Not BW/HG
1. Chapter 1

**AN- Well, here it is: The officially re-posted version of **_**Nineteen Years**_**! If you've already read this chapter, just skip to the bottom to see the little (but important) change that will be strongly affecting this story. Oh, and don't feel obligated to review if you already reviewed the last time, but if you haven't... or if you want to share your thoughts on the added scene... or if you want me to update faster... er, please feel free! Thanks so much, and without further ado, heeeere's the chapter!

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So much had changed.

As Hermione walked slowly beside Bill up the stone path to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she reflected idly on what had brought her there on this hot July afternoon when most students that still attended school were in hiding for summer break. Dumbledore had called the two of them earlier that day, and Dumbledore's summons never meant good news. Since Harry had died that day at the Ministry, the same day that Sirius fell through the veil, everything had gone horribly wrong. The first to go was Tonks, only a week after Harry, at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Alastor Moody followed soon after, though his body was never found, and then Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shackbolt, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron Weasley were all killed within two months. After that, each additional death became just a numb blow against their deadened hearts, and by the time a year had rolled by, they had lost the ability to feel fear. The future was simply death, and death was the future, and it would come eventually and inevitably for all of them as certainly as the sun would rise every morning and set each night. They didn't expected any different.

And so it was that Hermione didn't react when Dumbledore informed them a few minutes later of the death of Minerva McGonagall. She sat silently in her chair, staring at the wall, and beside her Bill did the same. However, where Hermione's face showed no emotion whatsoever, only a dull weariness that never left her eyes even for a heartbeat and never would, Bill's face was full of rage. They had grown closer over the past year, simply because that they had no one else to rely on and talk with, and Hermione admired him, in the tiny part of her mind that still registered emotion. Bill would never give up; he was stronger that Hermione and still full of determination. Each additional death weighed heavily in his entire being, but he didn't lose hope or will. He would meet anything that came fearlessly. Hermione would fight fearlessly, too, but only because she had nothing to lose, and therefore nothing to fear. She was almost completely dead inside. And she knew that her former, younger self would have been horrified and disgusted and ashamed of her, and she knew that Harry and Ron would have shaken her until her teeth rattled if they could have seen her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Death was the future, and the future was death.

Dumbledore observed them both over the top of his half-moon spectacles. He saw Bill grit his teeth and clench the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white, and he watched as Hermione continued to stare blankly at the wall. They were both very damaged, but he believed they could still succeed.

He stood up and strode to the center of the room, and cleared his throat. "I have called the two of you here today for a very important reason."

Hermione wondered what could be worse than McGonagall's death, and wished inwardly, hopelessly, that Dumbledore would stop speaking, though she knew it would not erase the horror of whatever he had to share.

"There is something I must ask you, and it is so grave and dangerous a matter, I feel I can trust no one else with it." He paused, then continued, "I believe that we have lost everything." There was no point trying to make the situation sound better than it was, but the observation was already familiar to them. "We are not losing this war, we have lost it, and therefore the entire world lies open to Voldemort. Nothing good or beautiful will survive, and if Voldemort is ever defeated, it will be in centuries' time. The world can not afford that. He must be stopped, and if that can not be, he must have never risen to power."

That made absolutely no sense, thought Hermione. The crackling, electric curiosity she once would have felt at hearing such a statement was gone, however, leaving behind only a vague residue of puzzlement, and she didn't comment. When Dumbledore didn't add anything else to clarify, though, Bill asked, "Professor, what are you saying?"

Dumbledore tilted his head to one side slightly, thoughtfully. "If Voldemort never attained such power, he would not be able to destroy the world."

"Yes, but he already has power. It's too late now." Bill frowned, desperately afraid that Dumbledore had finally cracked. To Hermione, that fear was null and void: In her eyes, they had all cracked long ago.

"At this point in time, it is."

They waited while Dumbledore looked at them gravely, a suspicion beginning to grow in Hermione's mind. Finally, he said, "But nineteen years ago, it was not."

Bill's face reflected utter confusion as he wondered what Dumbledore could possibly be implying, but Hermione met his eyes calmly. "It's impossible to go back so far," she said simply, no inflection at all in her voice.

Bill stared at Dumbledore. "Time travel?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I will not order you, or even ask you to travel back," Dumbledore replied evenly. "I can only suggest the possibility, and offer to send you back if you wish, with additional training and teaching."

"How?" It was the most Hermione had spoken in days.

"There is a means that a colleague of mine and I have been developing that it is now, finally, ready. This man worked previously in the Department of Mysteries on the standard Time Turners. I would trust him with my life."

"Why don't we know him?" asked Bill. "Hasn't he been fighting?"

"He has preferred to keep away from the fight, in order to work on this last, ultimate weapon. We hoped it would not be necessary, but alas, I can see no other alternative."

They digested this new information in silence.

"What exactly do you mean, sir?" said Bill at last. "What do you want us to do?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "If you do this, here is how it should be gone about...."

* * *

The next two months were spent in a frenzy of preparations and training and lessons. Bill and Hermione met with Dumbledore every morning to discuss everything they would need to know in the past, from what Voldemort was doing two decades ago to current laws and how they affected important people. Dumbledore instructed them until noon, and then they dueled while he taught them special spells and outdated defenses that had been very common twenty years ago but since fallen out of use. They were shown pictures and memories of people they should protect (including Harry's parents, who would be seventeen at the time, the same age as Hermione), and given descriptions of Death Eaters who would still be at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's full plan emerged for them, shocking but filling them with determination.

Bill and Hermione already knew about Voldemort's Horcruxes; Dumbledore told them now about the ones he thought the Dark Lord had probably created in that time (he certainly was missing Nagini and probably hadn't yet made the diary) and where they were likely to be. He also warned them, unnecessarily in Hermione's opinion, to maintain the secret of their origins at all costs, for Voldemort would do anything to possess the information they were taking with them, and in his hands, things could go even worse than they had in the present. They would lose any possibility of spies, and Voldemort wouldn't make the few mistakes he had if he knew of them.

Dumbledore explained that he wanted Bill to take a part-time job at Hogwarts, possibly as a teacher's assistant, to be able to keep in regular contact, but that otherwise his assignment would be to start and train the Order of the Phoenix. Bill was an important member; he knew the organization's inner workings and strategies, and he would be able to teach the new members well. Of course, he would also act as advisor to Dumbledore himself, providing information about the future whenever needed.

Hermione's assignment was much more difficult. Because of her age, she should still be a Hogwarts student, so Dumbledore had decided that she should attend her seventh year as she would in the future, but in Slytherin. He wanted her to infiltrate the House of the Serpent and become a spy while at the same time trying to discourage and save people who didn't truly want to follow Voldemort. He gave her some ideas of who they would be, but told her that ultimately she would have to trust her own judgement and reveal her loyalties to whomever she deemed trustworthy. No one had been offered the choice in the past as they knew it, so they couldn't be sure how anyone would react.

After she left school, Dumbledore hoped she would continue to spy along with anyone she managed to sway against Voldemort, but understood that if she didn't want to become a full Death Eater, she could simply 'disappear' as her presented character, and work as a covert Order member. Hermione spent many afternoons with Dumbledore practicing her Occlumency, working diligently to block him as he attempted to enter her mind until they were both confident that her shield was sufficiently strong. She didn't think even Voldemort would be able to extract information from her against her will by the time she was finished training.

They also had to decide what they should take with them and what they should tell people about where they had come from. They couldn't have been English, because the Ministry would have had records of their births, so Bill was planning on pretending to be French, and Hermione would say she had been born in Spain but traveled constantly after that, hence her lack of the Spanish language. Luckily, Bill spoke French fluently after spending a few years there and later having a French girlfriend. Hermione was going to claim that she was the daughter of Alphard Black, who was estranged from his family but on good terms with Dumbledore. He had always been strange and secretive, so his having a child and not telling his relatives wouldn't surprise them very much, nor would his plan of home-schooling her. A great skeptic of public education though he himself had attended Hogwarts, it made sense for him to have sheltered his daughter from the largest wizard school in Britain.

After much thought (and advice from Dumbledore), Hermione packed a trunk full of clothes, a few of her favorite, most necessary books, and some mementos. Dumbledore had performed a complicated, near-impossible-to-break charm on her trunk to protect her privacy and allow her to maintain secrecy, so she felt safe taking a few incriminating items.

The most treasured was a small photo album. It held a few pictures of her family (who of course had been killed) and a few more of the Order of the Phoenix as she had known it, and lastly were three cherished magical photographs of her with her friends, taken in their fourth year. She and Harry and Ron waved happily out of the first picture, sitting under a tree by the lake with a few books that they were ignoring, and the two boys laughed as they zoomed in and out of the second picture on their broomsticks and she covered her eyes in worry. The third photo was her favorite at all, and never failed to bring tears to her eyes, despite its apparent simplicity: She was standing with her two best friends at the foot of a staircase, and the three were clutching each other and laughing so hard that they had to fling their hands out every few seconds to keep from falling over. The memory that went with it was hazy, and she could only recall vaguely that it had had something to do with the Weasley twins, but their sheer, pure happiness always caught her breath in her throat. She couldn't believe they had ever been that carefree.

She also chose to take Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It had been in Dumbledore's possession since Harry died, and he allowed her to take it, reasoning that it could be useful, although it would also raise serious questions if James or his friends saw it. It would mean that there would be two identical Cloaks, but she didn't care. The Marauder's Map had been destroyed the year before, or she might have taken it as well.

Lastly, and for no reason she could devise (for she certainly would never use them), she took a few Skiving Snackboxes. Must have been nostalgia.

The day arrived that she and Bill were scheduled to depart (she thought it was an oddly appropriate phrase, remembering the phrase used with people died and reflecting that they _were_ leaving the world), and they stood together at Hogwarts with Dumbledore. They were in his office, all standing in the very center of the room. The Headmaster was holding a small goblet carefully in one hand, and Hermione knew it was the time-traveling potion, brewed especially with the same dust that allowed Time Turners to operate, but infinitely more complicated.

"Are you two entirely positive that you both want to do this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, gravely.

"Of course," said Bill in surprise. "We've been preparing all summer, we-"

"It will mean the destruction of all you know."

"I know," Bill answered more forcefully. "But we have to try. There's nothing left here."

Dumbledore nodded, as if to himself. "Then go with my blessings, Bill Weasley." He held the goblet out, and Bill took it solemnly. Before raising it to his lips, he looked at Dumbledore for a long moment, then simply stepped forward and embraced him.

"Thank you for everything, sir. It has been an honor and pleasure to know you."

"Likewise, my dear boy, likewise." Tears twinkled in Dumbledore's eyes.

There was nothing more to say, so Bill looked around once more and, eyes locked with Dumbledore's, lifted the goblet, placed it against his lips, and drained it in three rapid, decisive swallows.

He vanished instantly.

Dumbledore heaved a great sigh, looking older than Hermione had ever seen him, and then turned back to his desk and retrieved a book.

"This is for you, Hermione," he said. "It is merely a collection of spells and potions invented after the 1970s. It might be useful, and of course I don't have to caution you to keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

Hermione took the thick, leather-bound book almost reverently, weighing it in her hands before placing it in her trunk and shrinking it once more to fit in her pocket. "Thank you," she said. "I'll take very good care of it."

He nodded, already turning away once more. When he looked back, he had a tightly woven basket in his hands. He held it out wordlessly. "I know you have the worst part of this deal. It will be very difficult for you, and I thought you might get lonely."

Hermione rapidly unbuckled the thick straps and gasped as she lifted the lid to find a dark brown kitten blinking in the sudden light. It wore an expression of trust on its little face, and purred happily when Hermione reached down a trembling hand to stroke its head.

"Oh, Professor!" she cried. "I don't know what to say!" She rushed forward, careful not to upset the basket, and threw her arms around him. "Thank you so much!"

"Not at all, my dear. I only know that, in your position, I would want a friend."

She blinked back tears and suddenly found that she couldn't speak.

"Go well, Hermione Granger." He handed her an identical goblet full of ruby liquid.

Hermione looked up, a lump in her throat, and saw in his eyes that he understood; there was no need to say anything more. Without averting her eyes, as Bill hadn't, she gripped the goblet tightly and quickly drank its full, flavorless contents.

And then everything began to swirl crazily, and the world as she knew it dissolved around her.

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Far, far from there, two men stood side by side in a dark graveyard, shrouded in fetid gray mist. The taller man was white and snake-like, with red eyes and slits for nostrils. The second one looked slightly nervous, his pointed face even paler than usual and his blonde hair disheveled, but he concealed his feelings behind an impassive mask and stood perfectly straight and still. Suddenly, in a motion almost too swift to perceive, the snake-like man stiffened and shivered, and then turned to his companion. "There," he hissed. "It is done. _Now_, Draco...."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, people! Thanks for the reviews and favorites! Again, this is just a reposted chapter with minor edits, so if you've already read it, feel free to just skip and not review. Next chapter will be up tomorrow!

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"This is it."

Hermione and Bill shared a long glance, and then he wordlessly raised his fist and knocked three times on the door.

"Enter," said a deep voice.

Upon stepping into the office, Hermione's first thought was that it was exactly the same. She hadn't expected it to be, but the same figures slumbered in the same picture frames, almost all of the same spindly gadgets lay around on the same tables, and even the same sunset light streamed through the windows onto the same circular walls, just as it had the last time she was there.

Then she saw Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk with a pleasant, curious look on his face, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks. He looked so _young_. His hair still had traces of auburn in it, and hung only just past his shoulders. His face was not nearly as lined as she remembered, nor so weary, though his eyes held a suggestion of the stress and worry they would one day reflect. His nose was perhaps slightly straighter. But what struck most forcibly was the expression in his eyes. Until that moment, she had not fully understood what coming to a different time had meant, but gazing at the vague blankness where once there had sparkled recognition, she realized that he truly did not know her. He had no idea who she was, even though she knew him so well, had spoken to him on countless occasions... and it would be like this with everyone she had known. And she had been aware of this, but the stark truth still took her aback.

He watched them expectantly, and gestured for them to sit, which they did. "Lemon drop?" he asked politely, proffering the tin container. Hermione had a bizarre desire to laugh, and her desolation cleared somewhat. Some things remained the same, at least. Bill declined the offer, but she reached out and took a small candy, savoring the little bit of familiarity in her mouth.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "Bill and Hermione, am I correct? No surnames?"

Bill had chosen not to include their full names in his letter requesting an audience, preferring to speak in person. He cleared his throat. "Sir," he began. "We've come with important information, and an offer to help in any way you see fit."

"I see. What kind of information are you referring to?"

"Information about... about the future. About what is going to come, who you should trust, who you should watch. We have proof," he added, "of our intentions." He held out a sealed letter and a glass phial full of swirling memories. Dumbledore took them wordlessly, his eyes not leaving Bills' as he placed them both on the table.

"Perhaps you had better start from the beginning."

And so they did. Bill explained where- or rather, when- they had come from, and what had happened in the past year. He told Dumbledore about the wanton murders of the Death Eaters, he explained the organization known as the Order of the Phoenix, he spoke of how things had gone wrong and Voldemort had as good as won the war, leaving the entire world open to destruction.

"It has been... terrible," he said, his voice quietly impassioned. "So many people are dead. Voldemort recruited the giants, the werewolves, even the goblins, and he had spies everywhere. He took over the Ministry of Magic; no one was safe, he was just picking us off one by one, and Muggles were killed, too, in mass attacks. The Statue of Secrecy was almost dissolved, it was getting impossible to Obliviate so many people...." He paused, gathering his thoughts, and then finished, "So you sent us back. We were some of the only Order members left, and you trusted us enough. We have proof in those memories, from us, from yourself, and from a few other Order members, including Minerva McGonagall. I don't know what the letter says, you just said to give it to yourself."

Dumbledore had steepled his fingers and tapped them together now, contemplating the two people in front of him thoughtfully and seriously. He didn't speak for a very long time, just kept drumming his fingers together as he considered what had been said. Bill became impatient and looked nervously around the room, but Hermione stayed very still, feeling as though this was an examination that they had to pass. Finally, the Headmaster stirred and spoke.

"Well. This is, I must say, extraordinary. Who are you two in the future? You obviously know me well."

"I'm a Weasley," Bill said, pleased when Dumbledore smiled slightly. "My parents were Arthur and Molly Weasley, and I was the oldest of seven children. I was an Order member, and you knew me mostly from that, though of course I went to Hogwarts."

"Gryffindor, like your parents? And what about the red hair?" He had a suspiciously cheerful twinkle in his eye.

Bill laughed. "I had red hair, but we changed it permanently to brown before leaving. We didn't bother changing my face because of all the scars. Greyback," he added. "But untransformed at the time, so no drastic side-effects." He smiled. "And yes, I was a Gryffindor. Hermione here was, too. She should be going into her seventh year when school starts. She's Muggle-born, and she was best friends with my youngest brother and a boy named Harry Potter, before they were killed. Harry was... he was sort of the whole reason we lost the war. He-"

"Harry can't be blamed for what happened. He was more than just a tool." It was the first time Hermione had spoken since entering the office, and she felt Dumbledore's eyes turn to rest on her. Rather than make her nervous, however, the frank look hardened her resolve, and she spoke with more courage and conviction than she had in a long time. "You always treated him like he was just a useful tool, and he hated it. Everyone made him out to be a liar, or an attention-seeking freak, or some tragic hero, but he was just a boy, a person. No one would ever leave him alone. Harry was famous, you see," she explained, "because he defeated Voldemort when he was just a baby, but the qualities that made him special were his bravery, his kindness.... Voldemort came back when we were in our fourth year. Everyone expected him to defeat Voldemort again, even you, because of some ridiculous prophecy. He tried, he worked so hard to succeed, to help the people that treated him so ungratefully, and in the end, he was killed, and no one cared. So don't- don't say that Harry was the reason we lost the war. It wasn't his fault." She fell abruptly silent. Her cheeks began to heat in the silence that followed as Bill and Dumbledore both watched her unblinkingly.

Finally Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I am sorry for your loss. And I regret that I might have given you such a negative impression of myself."

She swallowed thickly and looked away. After a few moments, Bill started speaking again, and she didn't interrupt as he spoke of their plans and ideas. The only time she reacted at all was to frown when Bill explained their back-up plan of protecting Lily and James, and therefore Harry's birth, at all costs. Plan B, if all else failed, was to raise and train the smallest Potter carefully from a young age, so that he would be able to step in and save the world as a last resort, as he had been destined to. Hermione hated that plan, and was determined to do everything in her power to prevent it from coming about. She had come back to save people, and that didn't involve turning her best friend into a weapon and martyr.

Dumbledore listened to all this in silence, and didn't comment until Bill had finished. Then he sighed quietly and told them that he would meet with them again in two days time, when he had had time to think about what they were telling him.

* * *

Hermione and Bill spent the next two days in the Leaky Cauldron where they had rented rooms. They ventured into Diagon Alley a couple of times, and Hermione found herself enjoying the shops and finding special comfort in Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore, where she discovered earlier editions of some of her favorite books and spent several happy hours reading. She wandered once past the Quidditch store, her heart hammering painfully as she recalled Harry's and Ron's enthusiasm for it, and was forced to lean against a nearby wall and take deep breaths to calm herself. She was about to hurry away again when she spotted the back of a messy black head inside, and stopped dead in shock. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn it was Harry, and recalling James Potters' supposed great resemblance to his son, turned and fled. She stayed in her room for the rest of the day.

The fifth day of their life in the past (they had arrived two days before their meeting with Dumbledore) dawned cool and clear. Hermione awoke at daybreak and stood for a long time staring out the window, watching the Muggle cars and buses rumble past, until Bill knocked on her door. He waited while she dressed quickly in the bathroom, and then they gathered their belongings and went downstairs, forcing themselves to eat a quick breakfast in the bar. After they had finished, they Apparated to Hogsmeade and trekked slowly up the long path to the School, lost in thought. The grounds were beautiful at this time of year, lush and green, but they might have been covered in thick mist for all the notice Hermione took. Her feelings were in tangles, and a mantra of emotions ran through her body ceaselessly: Fear, uncertainty, desolation, and inevitably wild, freakish joy. The joy was puzzling to say the least, especially since it clashed so violently with most of her thoughts, but she felt it erupt randomly and flow with incredible force through her veins like fire, consuming her and making her want to run and shout, though outwardly she remained unflustered.

Suddenly, the Hogwarts doors loomed up before her. Had they arrived already? Nerves threatened to overcome her for a moment, but she mastered herself, evened her breathing, and continued through the castle and up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster was waiting for them. He welcomed them solemnly and invited them to sit, which they did, waiting anxiously for him to speak. He didn't keep them waiting long. "My dears, I fear that I can not ignore what you offer. The risk is simply too large."

"You'll let us help?" The joy suddenly overwhelmed her again, and Hemione almost gasped aloud. She realized that what she felt was hope- pure, undiluted, and unfamiliar hope. She had lost everything, but now she had a chance to fix it all: She could erase the terrible wrongs that had been committed against the world and allow the people she loved to grow to adulthood. Suddenly in a new time, she found herself in a different world.

Accordingly, things were different. _Things were better_, she decided. She remembered the earlier conviction that they had all shared of their hopeless future, and thought fiercely to herself, _Here, the future is _life.

There was never a more beautiful word.


	3. Chapter 3

**WOW. Thank you all so much for your great response last chapter! I nearly began hyperventilating when I checked this morning and saw 18 new reviews/favorties/alerts. You guys are awesome! Oh, and again this chapter's just a re-post, sorry, so same drill applies! (Chapter four will be the last re-posted chapter, by the way.) But anyway, thanks again and on with the chapter!

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With Dumbledore's acceptance, their plans progressed rapidly.

Alphard Black was contacted immediately, and he agreed, on his deathbed, to pretend that Hermione was his daughter and include in his will that she was to be placed into the care of Hogwarts School after he died. He had always been reckless, secretive, and apart from the rest of his family, and they wouldn't be too surprised to learn that he had a child and had home-schooled her himself, keeping her existence from them. Just the month before, he had met with Dumbledore to tell him of his terminal illness and ask if there was anything he could possibly do to aid the fight against Voldemort, and now he was only too happy that Dumbledore had agreed. Hermione took the name Black, and with it the protection and interest of the pureblood society. It granted her status, and she knew it would be taken into account when she began to deal with Voldemort's followers.

After that, arrangements were made for Bill to become the Care of Magical Creature's teacher assistant, convincing because of Professor Kettleburn's advancing age. The idea presented to the school would be for students to gain more hands-on experience (something that Kettleburn at his age frankly couldn't provide) when Bill brought in exotic creatures for them to study and handle (if possible). Hermione thought of Aragog and Buckbeak and shuddered. She hadn't been planning on taking the class, but at the last minute had changed her mind, hoping that it would give her a chance to speak with Bill once in a while. School was going to be much lonelier than she was used to in this time, especially with the Slytherins as companions, and Bill was the only person who could truly understand her, the only person who had lived through the same horrors and known the same people as she.

In the last week before term started, Dumbledore took Bill to meet several important people and begin making contacts (the story was that he was French, just coming to live in England after having known Dumbledore for many years), and Hermione was forced to stay behind at Hogwarts. She spent her time mostly in the library, and before she knew it, it was September 1st.

The students arrived in the evening, and Hermione waited in a small room next to the Great Hall, listening to the screeches of carriages, shouts of friends, and constant laughter and merriment as they filed in. It was almost an hour later when everyone was finally assembled, and then Dumbledore called her to stand beside the staff table. She tried not to fidget as he welcomed the everyone back, and then he turned smiling to her, and said, "But before the Sorting begins, I would like to introduce a new seventh year student to Slytherin House: Hermione Black." There was a smattering of applause, and Hermione, already dressed in the Slytherin robes that Dumbledore had provided, moved quickly to the appropriate table and sat beside a blonde girl, barely paying attention to the people around her.

She could hear muttering between the students nearest her, but couldn't make out the words, until finally one boy leaned over and spoke to the girl next to her. "Any relation of yours, Narcissa?" he asked. Hermione's head jerked up and she turned to stare at the blonde girl beside her, who, she realized, was examining her with lively curiosity.

_Narcissa_. Blonde hair, almost white. Pale blue eyes. A pretty face, but slightly haughty, with a turned-up nose. Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione felt her heart shudder, and forced herself to remain calm. No, not Malfoy yet. She was still just a school girl, a Black.

"I don't know," Narcissa murmured, and then caught Hermione's eye. "Hi!" she said brightly. "Are we related? My name is Narcissa Black, daughter of Cygnus and Druella."

"I think so," said Hermione softly. The acting begins now, she told herself. "My father is Alphard Black."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "He's my uncle! I didn't know he had a daughter."

Hermione realized that everyone in the immediate vicinity was watching her covertly despite the Sorting now taking place. She controlled her expression carefully. "Yes, we lived out of the country for the most part, traveling through different parts of Europe. I was home-schooled," she added.

"Why? Why didn't you come to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know. My father always just said that I would learn better that way, directly from him. The truth is that he never really talked much about England or his family."

"He was always strange," remarked Narcissa. "So secretive the few times we saw him." She didn't seem overly concerned with sugar-coating her statements, and Hermione was slightly disconcerted. Weren't Slytherins supposed to be sly and dishonest? Of course, Hermione wasn't as prejudiced as her friends in Gryffindor had been, but most of the Slytherins she knew were decidedly unpleasant. "But anyway," continued Narcissa. "Why are coming here now?"

Hermione didn't answer right away, allowing a touch of grief to color her face. Her voice was muffled when she spoke. "My father isn't well," she said. "He- he's ill, in the Hospital permanently. I had no where else to go." She widened her eyes helplessly.

Narcissa looked a bit more sympathetic. "I didn't know he was dying," she mumbled. "What about your mother? Who is she? A pureblood?"

"I don't know. He never spoke of her, and I never met her."

"Well." Narcissa put her hand on her arm. "I'll show you around. We're in the same year, and I imagine it will be quite a shock, living with so many people so suddenly. The castle is very big, too; it's easy to get lost."

"Thank you," said Hermione sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

Narcissa smiled. "We are cousins, after all." She looked prettier when she smiled, very different from the dour face she would wear in the future. Perhaps she could have been a good person, without Lucius Malfoy's influence. Hermione was glad that she would have time to get to know her better: Maybe Narcissa could be the first person she helped.

She chatted with some of the other students through dinner, asking light questions about classes and teachers, and observing the differing degrees of friendliness with which they were received. Some people were positively cold, answering in as few words as possible, while some simperingly tried to ingratiate themselves with her, impressed by her name. Sirius's words came back to her, "My mother thought to be a Black made you practically royalty." It seemed that more than just his mother were of the same opinion. Only a few people were as warm as Narcissa, but the real shock of the night came when Hermione leaned over, reaching to get a plate of potatoes, and found herself face-to-face with Severus Snape.

He hadn't changed much, really. He was obviously younger, but his sallow features (and greasy hair) were the same, as was the contemptuous expression he wore. Hermione noticed that his eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor table, but couldn't see who he was watching, and hurriedly snatched a plate up at random and sat back down. She didn't feel like introducing herself tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when she had had a little more time to settle into her role.

After the last of the dessert had been cleared away, Dumbledore stood to give a few last reminders: Four new items had been banned, and students were to be in their common rooms before eleven o'clock every night, with the exception of prefects and the Head Girl and Boy. He announced the new Heads as James Potter and Lily Evans, and raucous cheers erupted at the Griffindor table, followed by more modest applause from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Only a few people clapped at the Slytherin table, and those were mostly first-years who quickly stopped, looking around nervously at their House-mates. James Potter stood, bowing, with an enormous grin plastered to his face, and Lily's friends pushed her up as well, beaming and yelling, and thus Hermione got her first real glimpse of Harry's parents. It seemed unfair that she was seeing them when he never had, but she couldn't seem to pull her gaze away. James was so like Harry that tears almost came to her eyes. Even his glasses looked the same. Lily was clearly popular and well-loved, and very beautiful, with flowing, dark red hair and the brilliant green eyes that her son would inherit. Even from a distance, Hermione could see how radiant with happiness they both were. James kept trying to catch Lily's eye, but she kept her face turned resolutely away. Hermione laughed, remembering the stories Sirius and Lupin and told. Lily would finally give in this year, but it was clear she had a bad impression of her fellow Head.

Narcissa was frowning heavily next to her, glaring at her plate. "Two Gryffindors," she muttered disgustedly. "What a biased old-"

"What's wrong?" said Hermione. "Why don't you like Gryffindors?"

"Oh, you've never met one," Narcissa growled. "They're just so, so-" She screwed up her face, trying to find the right words. "They're just so immature! Always playing jokes and pranks, they don't take anything seriously, and meanwhile we're here-" Her voice cut off abruptly.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing. They're brats, that's all, and Dumbledore favors them terribly."

"Hmm. I'll have to keep an eye out, I suppose."

"Yeah. I don't know _how_ the other teachers could have agreed to make _Potter_ Head Boy, though. He wasn't even a prefect! And he's part of this group called the Marauders- they're the absolute worst. We can't eat, walk to class, or even sleep peacefully with them around. It's their life's mission to make us as miserable as they can, and Dumbledore thinks they're _funny_. They're so- ugh!" She clutched at her hair with both hands.

"Wow."

Narcissa looked rather sheepish. "Sorry," she apologized. "You must think I'm crazy now. But they're just so awful... one of their leaders, along with Potter, is our cousin, Sirius Black. I thought I should warn you. He was disowned last summer," she lowed her voice "for running away, but he was always stupid. He doesn't have anything at all to do with us now."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"Stay away from him if you can."

"Yeah, I think I might." Of course, she had every intention of protecting him and 'Potter' from all harm humanly possible, but Narcissa didn't have to know that.

A loud scraping noise brought her back to attention, and she realized the students had been dismissed. She followed Narcissa down the hall and down to the Slytherin dormitories, where her scant possessions and the books Dumbledore had provided were already at the foot of her new bed, and fell asleep almost at once, her kitten snuggling up to her neck.

* * *

"Hermione!" A voice intruded on her peaceful slumber. "Hermione, wake up, we're going to be late!" She opened one bleary eye and saw Narcissa peering down at her, fully dressed and with school-bag in hands. "Hurry!" the girl repeated urgently.

Oh. She was in the past, ready to go to her first day of classes as a Slytherin. She bolted upright. "What time is it?" she gasped.

"Nearly eight, we don't even have time for breakfast, I can't _believe_ we overslept...."

Hermione dashed to the foot of her bed and yanked open her trunk, impatiently muttering the password and placing her index finger on the lock. It burst open and she quickly grabbed the first clothes she could find and began pulling them on. She had _not_ planned to start her mission as a spy this way, scrambling to get to class on time after oversleeping and missing breakfast.

Narcissa was still talking. "And what weasels, those girls- and Lucretia and Irma call themselves my friends, ha- couldn't even be bothered to wake us up, maybe they thought it would be funny if we missed class...." She looked up and saw Hermione grab her wand from her bedside table. "Okay, let's go!"

They all but ran straight from the dungeons to the main floor before remembering that they didn't yet have their schedules. "Oh, no," moaned Narcissa. "Come on, we'll have to get them from Slughorn." She took off again back in the direction of the dungeons, and Hermione hastened to follow, remembering that she shouldn't be familiar enough with the castle yet to avoid getting lost on her own. They didn't meet a single person in the corridors, which made Hermione think, with a sinking feeling, that classes had probably already started. Her suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when they arrived, panting and clutching their sides, in front of the Potions classroom to find the door closed.

"Let's hope he's in a good mood today," muttered Narcissa, and she turned the doorknob and slipped into the room with Hermione. Slughorn was standing in the front, giving a lecture of some sort, but he looked up and smiled briefly when he saw them.

"Running a little late, girls?"

"Sorry, sir."

"Tut tut. You're fortunate that you have Potions first thing this morning, or you would be in even greater trouble. Two points from Slytherin and please take your seats."

Hermione looked around and realized that it was the seventh year N.E.W.T. class, made up of mostly Slytherins and Gryffindors, and a small handful of the other Houses. There were only two empty seats, and, looking around quickly, Narcissa hurriedly took the one in the back beside two of their dorm-mates, a forced smile on her face. Hermione had a feeling that they were going to get quite an earful, if not a hex or two, for neglecting to wake them up. Slughorn was giving Hermione a pointed look, indicating the front of the classroom, so she slowly walked up and sat down directly in front of his desk next to a girl in Gryffindor robes. She didn't realize until she was right next to her that it was Lily Evans.

"Hi!" the redhead whispered, once Slughorn had walked away, heading into the storeroom in the back. "My name is Lily Evans. I'm Head Girl."

"Hermione Black," she replied cautiously, uncertain just how friendly she should appear to a Muggleborn Gryffindor with at least seven Slytherins in the room. "Nice to meet you." Surely that wouldn't arouse too much suspicion; she could always claim, after all, that she wasn't very familiar with the House rivalry.

They didn't have very much opportunity to talk after that, since Slughorn promptly assigned them to brew a devilishly tricky potion that required their full attentions, but Lily politely asked Hermione to pass an ingredient once or twice and questioned her lightly about how she was liking the school so far. Hermione knew she probably just considered it her duty as Head Girl to be friendly and helpful, but it was nice to know that someone didn't seem to share the same deep prejudices as the rest of her House, who shot Hermione suspicious looks all through class.

Only a quarter of an hour till the bell rang, Hermione looked up to see a student leaning forward in his seat to tap Lily on the shoulder. "Evans," he hissed. "Can I borrow your knife?" Lily looked up at Snape expressionlessly, then thrust the requested article at him without a word. Hermione thought she saw a flicker of something strange on Snape's face, but he caught her watching and narrowed his eyes angrily, the brief emotion disappearing instantly. Hmm, that was strange, she thought. It was almost like they knew each other, but Dumbledore hadn't mentioned any relationship between the two, and surely he would have; it could be important. She resolved to try to figure it out, but probably she was just reading too far into things.

She and Lily packed up their belongings in silence when they were dismissed, and Lily left almost immediately, ignoring the messy-haired boy who tried to stop her near the door. The boy shrugged, grinning, and followed her anyway at a distance, laughing with his handsome friend.

"Come _on_," said Narcissa, tugging on her arm. "Here." She handed a sheaf of parchment to Hermione, who saw that it was her schedule. "I got them from Slughon." Pering down at her own, she said, "We have Charms next, and then Divination. Or are you taking those classes?"

"Charms," Hermione answered. "Not Divination. I have Arithmancy instead...."

"Ugh, isn't that really hard?" They walked out of the room and began heading up toward the main part of the school. "I've heard Professor Vector is really tough."

"She's okay," defended Hermione automatically. "She has to be strict." Suddenly remembering where and when she was, she stuttered out, "I mean- I've heard that she knows a lot- about the subject. And Arithmancy is my favorite subject."

That diverted Narcissa's attention, and she raised her eyebrows. "Really? What are you planning on doing after Hogwarts?"

Hermione didn't like her tone of surprise and slight disdain, reminding her of the arrogant pureblood family she came from. So far, the girl had seemed rather nice. "I'm not sure yet," she replied. "How about you?"

The answer wasn't forthcoming, and when Hermione glanced over at her, Narcissa was biting her lip and staring at the floor. Hermione wondered why the question might have offended her, but when she finally spoke, her tone was very quiet. "You probably don't know a lot of things that we take for granted, but it's strange, considering you're a Black." She took a deep breath. "My future is already planned out for me. It has been since I was five. I'm engaged, and I'll be marrying shortly after we graduate."

Hermione stopped dead, shocked. "What?"

"Come on, keep walking." The noise of the school washed over them, but Hermione didn't hear the shouts or laughter as she walked on in silence. Narcissa was already engaged? Hermione knew who must have asked her, urged on by his family, and the thought was appalling. The Malfoys would be very glad to establish a connection with the more prestigious Blacks. She should have realized, but the knowledge unnerved her deeply.

Something in Narcissa's face, however, told her that she wasn't entirely happy with the situation either, and that gave her hope. Surely if this most pure of Purebloods was discontented with tradition, many more would be, too. The problem was that Slytherin House was more secretive, cautious, and dangerous than any other, and Hermione would have to tread carefully if she didn't want to risk being exposed.


	4. Chapter 4

**And heeeere's chapter 4! (The last of the re-posts!) Fervent thanks, as always, to my lovely reviewers!**

Over the next week, Hermione attended classes and did homework with Narcissa while watching the other students' various interactions from a distance, but didn't try to get any closer than that. First, she had to learn to fit in, and it was proving surprisingly enjoyable.

For all her haughtiness, Narcissa was a good friend; she knew when to talk and when to listen, and displayed a wicked sense of wit on occasion. She also sensed when Hermione felt especially tired or overwhelmed, and had enough tact to not pry, a quality that was as welcome as it was novel after years of living with noisy Gryffindor boys.

Because, despite the supposed aloofness of Slytherins, at times the sheer life and movement of the past astounded her. The people simply loved to live, and weren't afraid to show it. And furthermore, Hermione discovered that Slytherin put on a great show in front of the rest of the School, sneering and turning their noses away, but with each other they were all jokes and laughter. The Common Room was a place of pure enjoyment, with only the occasional fight thrown in (however false the other rumors might be, pride was one quality Slytherin possessed in excess). The students teased and swapped stories and gossip, the boys bragging loudly about their various accomplishments and the girls pretending to swoon in response. They batted their eyelashes and giggled at the most exaggerated claims, but winked slyly at each other when the boys' backs were turned, though the looks were mostly noticed anyway. It was all in fair fun.

There were the few dark souls too, though, of course. Several of the students spent their time huddled in corners and talking in low voices while glaring out of narrowed, hate-filled eyes: Future Death Eaters, the people who would become Voldemort's right-hand men with upon leaving the sanctuary of Hogwarts school. Hermione had expected them, knowing and having witnessed the Death Eaters' twistedness in the future, but knowing didn't make it any easier to witness. And besides, they faintly tainted the atmosphere of the Slytherin rooms. Hermione thought she could sense an undercurrent of unease flowing beneath every casual conversation and joke, and it showed most prominently late at night in the older students' strained smiles and forced cheer, betraying those who were less than a single year away from life servitude. These people, because of their House and blood status- Hermione hadn't met a single Slytherin student with less than one pureblood parent- all held the certainty that the moment they left School, they would be expected to join the Dark Lord and his cause, or die, but instead of allowing trepidation to take control of their lives, they threw themselves into school life with a wild, unrestrained abandon that would have taken any other Hogwarts student frankly aback.

Slytherin House had decided to make its last moments, if last they were, memorable. They simply danced to the beat of a different drummer, and the Common Room became a secret space of wild enchantment, apart from the School and gloom beyond, apart from the threat of death, and apart from Hermione's growing problems.

One evening, when she was just standing up from dinner to go back to the Common Room, someone nudged her shoulder and she looked up to see Dumbledore striding toward her table. "Good evening, Miss Black," he said pleasantly, smiling at the other students. "If you have a moment?"

Wondering what he could possibly want, Hermione nodded, then waved goodbye to her friends and followed the Headmaster up to his office.

"Oh, you're not in trouble," he laughed as she took a puzzled seat in front of his desk, her face rather white. "I merely wished to enquire as to your success in your new House. How are you enjoying your life here so far?"

"Fine," she said in surprise. "Everything is going really well. I haven't been able to get any information for you yet, though, sir."

"No matter," said Dumbledore dismissively, waving a hand airily. "I didn't expect you to. But the past is agreeing with you? It must be very different from what you are used to." He scrutinized her closely, some expression she didn't recognize, but didn't entirely like either, marring his features.

"There are some things," she allowed. "But mainly just because I know a few of these people already, and what's going to happen to them."

"What could have happened," he corrected. "Bill and I have already met several times to discuss the future, and we are confident that quite a few things will be different. Perhaps the lives of your new friends will be also. Incidentally, he will be coming for his first lessons, already worked out with Professor Kettleburn, next week."

"Really?" she exclaimed in delight.

He smiled. "He is most anxious to see himself how you are faring."

"I'm glad," she said, with feeling. "These people are surprisingly fun and nice, more than I expected, but I have to guard what I say and the way I act constantly. I almost slipped up a few days ago, just by walking slightly ahead of Narcissa and Lucretia while we were going to our first Transfiguration lesson. They couldn't understand how I knew where I was going, and I had to make up some story about passing the door earlier and hearing students practicing."

"I imagine it must be very difficult," Dumbledore agreed. "But I have every confidence in your abilities."

She smiled. "Have you talked to Bill about when we'll be leaving?"

"Leaving?"

"Temporarily," she amended. "I know that my main mission right now is to be a spy, but we were really sent back to stop Voldemort, and- well, we told you about the Horcruxes. Bill and I have to find them before it's too late."

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on a point above her head.

"Professor?" she repeated, beginning to feel alarmed. "Aren't we going to be looking for them?"

Something in his face told her she didn't want to know what he was thinking. "It is late," he said, glancing at the darkening window. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion at another time-"

"No!" She stood up, her eyes glaring with the force of her agitation. She strode across the room and faced him from against the far wall, clenching her hands together to hide their trembling. "We have to. We _have_ to. That's why we came back. Bill and I-" Memories were flashing before her eyes, and she felt her breathing quicken.

"Miss Granger. Calm yourself. This is a serious matter that requires the attention of qualified witches and wizards."

She ignored the use of her true name. "This is a serious matter? _Qualified witches and wizards?_" The words were spat incredulously. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you- how could you-" The frenzied panic brewing beneath her skin grew. He was going to tell her that she was too young, too inexperienced, she had to stay in School- just like he had before Harry died. She couldn't let something like that happen again. "Professor-" she tried.

"Miss Granger, I assure you we are giving the matter our full attention, and we will speak again at a later time. Goodnight."

The abrupt dismissal took her aback. He wasn't going to let her help. He didn't trust her, and it was all going to go wrong again. The door slammed shut with a bang as she rushed out without a backward glance.

It took a few minutes of pacing up and down an empty corridor to gather her emotions in check, and Narcissa was waiting in the Common Room when Hermione finally tramped in. "What did he want?" she demanded immediately. "Are you in trouble?"

"No. He just wanted to see how I was settling into School." Her voice was controlled and steady, but a vicious edge betrayed her.

"Are you all right?" Narcissa peered closer at her face, sweeping strands of blonde hair away from her eyes to see better.

Hermione forced herself to relax. "I'm fine."

Narcissa looked unconvinced, but seemed to sense that Hermione wasn't going to say anything more, and merely nodded. She changed the subject. "Do you want to play Exploding Snap? Regulus just went to get some cards."

Forcing her thoughts at last from Dumbledore, Hermione thought of the books she still had to read for Arithmancy and the homework she hadn't yet finished for Charms. She remembered that she should be getting to know other, more important people that would play large roles in the war, and it crossed her mind that she still had done nothing about finding how many people from other Houses were loyal to Voldemort.

"I'd love to."

***

Regulus was another surprise, Hermione discovered that night. He was a year younger than them, and shy around most girls, but apparently Narcissa's closest confident. They were the youngest of the Blacks; their other siblings and cousins had always tended to ostracize them at family and pureblood gatherings, disdainful of being seen with the "babies", and as a result they had grown closer. Narcissa's natural boisterousness seemed to multiply tenfold in his presence, and she laughed and joked and even poked her younger cousin with her wand as he sat down. She clearly preferred his company to that of her dorm-mates, which explained why she wasn't closer to them, something Hermione had been wondering.

Hermione was really more interested in watching Regulus, though. He seemed immediately at ease and comfortable around her, believing that they were family. He introduced himself solemnly with the air of a great lord and an elegant bow, kissing her hand lightly as he held her gaze with dark, heavily-lashed eyes. Within the first minute of playing, he had managed to charm both girls into distraction while he slyly switched the order of cards nonverbally, and smirked as they sat and gaped. Hermione's earlier encounter with Dumbledore finally left her mind completely.

"Regulus!" shrieked Narcissa as the cards blew up in her face. "You cheated!" Her eyebrows were singed and soot covered her reddening cheeks.

He blinked innocently. "Oh, Cissy dearest, would I do a thing like that?"

"Yes!"

"Truly, you wound me. Other cousin," he turned to Hermione, "tell her how she's just a sore loser. You know I'd never _cheat_." His tone was businesslike, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Do I?" Hermione raised her eyebrows laughingly.

"Of course you do! Aren't you on my side? And anyway-" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, winking while he whispered behind his hand, "If you are, I can tell you all about that time Narcissa and I were at the Wilkes' and she thought the gardener's boy-"

"Not another word, Regulus Black!"

He stuck his tongue out at her and sidled over to Hermione, ducking under her arm. "Two against one."

"What! Hermione, you're with me, aren't you? He _did_ cheat!"

Hermione adopted a thoughtful expression. "Well, I did think I saw a wand-" she began. "But probably not." She grinned. "And I'd love to hear what happened at the Wilkes'."

"No! Some friend you are." Narcissa pretended to pout, then remarked pensively, "Although I could always tell you what little Reggie's mummy did when she realized he had snuck off that day."

Regulus gravely placed the tip of his wand against the table and lowered his head in defeat. "I am undone," he declared. "I confess to my crime." The ghostly image of shuffling cards was suddenly suspended in the air, a result of _priori incantatem_.

"HA!"

They continued playing merrily. It came to Hermione, as she felt her face stretch in a smile and an unfamiliar bubble of happiness in her chest, that she felt lighter and happier than she had since... since Harry died a year ago. She felt her smile grow. It was an exhilarating sensation. After a while, the kitten that the future Dumbledore had given her- they were firmly two different people in Hermione's mind now- wandered down from the dormitory, and Regulus was delighted when it jumped in his lap.

"I've never had a cat," he confided. "My mum doesn't like them." He scratched its chin, smiling as it purred loudly with the frank, monotonous timbre only kittens have. "What's his name?" he asked.

"I actually don't have one yet," Hermione admitted. "Nothing seems... right."

The kitten climbed onto Regulus' shoulder and snuffled in her ear. "Mow," it said loudly.

"He's hungry," Hermione explained ruefully. "I haven't fed him since morning, and he's still growing...."

"Poor thing!" Narcissa cooed. The kitten rubbed his head against Regulus' chin winningly.

"Why don't we get him some then?" Regulus' face was eager, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief.

"How? We can't conjure any, and dinner's long over-" frowned Narcissa.

"The kitchens, of course!" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet enthusiastically. "Near the Hufflepuff common room. It'll only take a moment, and the poor kitten's _starving_."

"I don't know," said Narcissa doubtfully. "It's close to curfew...."

It took Hermione by surprise how casually Regulus spoke of the location of the kitchens and other House common room. She and Harry and Ron had known too, and Hermione had thought her friends didn't respect school rules enough, sneaking around out-of-bounds and choosing to disregard the rules when necessary, but the Slytherin acted as if the rules weren't even worth recognizing, much less obeying.

"Narcissa," whined Regulus. "Come on, I've had such a boring day, let's do something fun."

"Going to the kitchens in the middle of the night is fun?" she asked skeptically, showing a more cautious side than usually, apparently called upon to apply discipline on her cousin.

"Well, we could make a detour, too, if you want," Regulus wheedled. "And besides, I'm _hungry_."

"It's been less than two hours since dinner! And I don't want to get caught, we're already on McGonagall's bad side from yesterday's lesson-"

The day before there had been a small incident in Transfiguration involving Narcissa and Sirius Black, and a few nasty hexes before it was all over. Sirius claimed he hadn't meant to aim the body part alteration spell at her, but Narcissa had inexplicably sprouted a pair of hairy feet from her head. McGonagall blamed them both equally, showing what Narcissa called awful, Gryffindor favoritism, and they had lost their Houses twenty-five points each.

Norbert mewed pitifully, and Hermione felt her stomach twist with guilt. He _was_ a growing kitten, and she could almost see his ribs. She sighed. "Look, I can guarantee that we won't get caught."

"What?" they demanded. "How?"

She hesitated, but then stood up decisively. "I'll show you."

Ten minutes later, the three of them were making their way slowly through the upper floor corridor under the Invisibility Cloak Hermione had brought from the future. They had to stoop in order for it to cover them completely, but Regulus was grinning widely.

"Brilliant," he whispered gleefully. "_Excellent_. We could go _anywhere_ with this Cloak: The Gryffindor Common Room, the Staff Room, the-."

"Ouch! Regulus, move _over,"_ Narcissa hissed. "That was my foot."

"Well, sor_ry_, Miss Merlin."

"Shh! The Cloak doesn't stop us from being heard, you know."

They stopped bickering long enough to reach the kitchens relatively unharmed (Narcissa still complained about her trodden-on foot), and Hermione breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Come on, let's just ask for some food and go-" she began.

"Master Regulus and Mistress Narcissa!"

The excited squeal came from somewhere to their right, and suddenly what seemed like dozens oh house-elves were swarming toward them in a massive tide. Hermione feared being run over briefly, but they slammed to collective halt a few feet away. "What is you be needing tonight? Ooh, and who is the new mistress?"

"I'm Hermione Black," she said clearly, before the others could answer. She kneeled on their level and smiled kindly. "Pleased to meet you."

Narcissa looked exasperated. Regulus, however, beamed at her, shooting a smugly triumphant look at his cousin.

"That was very nice," he told Hermione afterwards. "I know a lot of people who treat house-elves like scum. It's good to see someone else in the family care about them."

"Your family treats them like scum?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, not mostly. My mother is very kind to Kreature, our elf. My father treats him indifferently. Some of the others, though- and don't tell Narcissa I said this- some of the others, including her parents and sister, are really awful. Her mother kicks their elves, orders them to punish themselves in the most cruel ways she can imagine... she even ironed their ears once when I was over because she didn't like the food well enough."

"Narcissa isn't like that too?" gasped Hermione, horrified.

"No," he said hastily. "But she comes from that. It's affected the way she sees things."

Hermione didn't want to know what else her family had made her think. She remembered who Narcissa's oldest sister was and felt sick. It had never truly sunk in, despite her endless preparations; in this time, everyone she met was so different, it was easy to forget who they would become. In fact- and she had to lean against the wall as the thought struck her- it was very likely that Regulus was already a Death Eater. He was sixteen, he had already been tested and joined Voldemort over the summer. He would die in two years.

Two years. This boy, who seemed so young and naive compared with her old friends, was going to be killed by Voldemort months after he left school.

It couldn't be. He was nothing like how a Death Eater should act. Bellatrix had been mad, power-hungry, insanely enraptured by torture. The others Hermione knew of had been similar. They weren't _nice_, and fun, and friendly. They didn't tease their cousins and over-dramatize their speech to make people laugh. They didn't treat house-elves kindly.

Or did they?

The worst of Voldemort's followers that she had known had all been through Azkaban; surely that had changed them, perhaps made them who they were. And, after all, who knew what they did in their free time?

She shook her head, disturbed. No. Death Eaters simply didn't take breaks from killing children to act humanly. But neither did they start their lives evil, as her new friends were proving.

So something eventually must have happened, she concluded, to convert them to the cold, emotionless beings they would become.

It would not happen again.

She quietly fed her kitten when they got back to the Common Room, but her mind whirred with ideas, plans, memories. Regulus and Narcissa smiled and bid her goodnight cheerfully when she announced that she was tired after the long day. Their laughter and bright grins seemed to be branded into her brain, though, and the ghosts of their happiness lurked in her unawareness, even in sleep. She jolted awake a few hours later, and then again near dawn, the dark curtains around her bed grayish in the tenuous light. Turning over angrily, she felt resolution and a fierce determination well deep inside her, smoldering slowly but inevitably. She would save them all.


End file.
